Overriding Instincts
by hamalaka
Summary: Parker and Hardison find themselves in a sticky situation while on a job, and it's up to Parker to get them out of it. This started as a action-packed one shot that expanded. The second part focuses more on the family and how they take care of each other. Set towards the end of season 4, around the time after the Girl's/Boy's Night Out Job. Parker's POV. Canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

"Hold on!" Parker heard Hardison shout. A second later, Parker was jerked against her seatbelt from the impact of the SUV against the sedan's bumper.

In the driver's seat, Hardison was putting as much weight on the brakes as he could, trying to keep their car from hitting the railing. The flimsy barrier that was the only thing between them and a 20 foot plunge into the Atlantic Ocean. Their sedan skidded to a stop two feet from the railing.

Parker turned in her seat to look behind her. The SUV had backed up and was preparing to ram into them again.

"Get us out of here, Hardison."

"I'm trying!"

Hardison tried to put the car in reverse, but before he had the chance, Parker was jerked against the seatbelt again as the SUV hit them. The railing crumpled ridiculously easy as their car hit it, and a second later they were free falling, the nose of the car angling sharply downward as it plummeted towards the water.

Time seemed to almost shudder to a stop while they were airborne. Parker's stomach did a little flip like it had done so many times when she jumped off a building, in the fraction of a second before the rope caught and tethered her to the earth again.

There was no rope to stop this fall, only cold, gray water.

Parker felt the impact with the water as a huge jolt. Her limbs went flying. Her head flew forward, her chin hit her sternum, and she bit down hard on her tongue.

Parker sat stunned for a few seconds while the car began to rapidly sink. As she tried to catch her breath, she began to take stock of her body.

Her neck was quite sore from whiplash, but it didn't seem serious. Her tongue was swollen and painful. She tasted blood in her mouth and realized she might have bitten off a chunk of it. Her left arm was throbbing; it had come down hard on the dashboard. Everything else seemed to be in working order.

She looked over at her lanky companion. His head was angled to the side, resting against the driver's side window. He wasn't moving.

Did he hit his head? Bad, that was bad.

"Hardison?" she said around the blood filling her mouth.

He didn't stir.

"Hardison!"

His chest was rising and falling, but otherwise he was completely still.

Parker realized her feet were wet. She looked down, water was coming in fast, it was already up to her ankles.

Parker's stomach starting doing flips again. She took a deep breath and waited for the logical side of her brain to take over. She had been in precarious situations before, mostly before she joined the team. After the initial surge of adrenaline she always subconsciously slipped into survival mode. Without even telling it to her mind would cycle through the options and pick the best actions to get her out of peril. It was how she had stayed alive on her own for so long.

But her brain wasn't calming her down, her heart was pounding in her ears and her mind kept shifting back to Hardison. Her instincts were at war with her brain. Every muscle in her body was tensed to flee, to escape, and to save herself.

But she wasn't alone. It wasn't just her life on the line. She couldn't silently slip away and escape like she used to, Hardison would die.

After one more moment of hesitation, she unhooked her seatbelt and shifted up next to him.

"Hardison, I need you to wake up," she said and reached up to touched his cheek, wincing as she remembered too late that her arm was injured. The water was almost up to their knees inside the car, and she could see from the rear window that they were completely submerged.

How long did it take a car to fill up with water? At the rate it was going, probably less than three minutes.

"Alec, please," her voice caught on the last word. She didn't know how she was going to get him out of there if he was unconscious, he had at least seventy pounds on her.

He still wasn't moving.

Parker flashed back to the job in Dubai a little over a month ago, when her frustration had boiled over at trying to match Livingston's gait in those awful boots.

"You're not alone anymore," he had said. "Look, look at me."

She remembered the feel of his hands on her face as he had turned her to look at him.

"You're not alone. You're not, you have a team. You have me. And I got you. I got you, girl."

She looked at his unconscious face, so much more serious than how it usually was when he we was awake and goofing off, or pushing Eliot's buttons.

"I got you," she said, looking at him.

Her survival brain took over then, assessing how to get both of them out alive.

_Seatbelt first. _She reached over unhooked his seatbelt, pulling his arm through to free it.

_Secure an exit._ She knew the door would be under too much pressure to open. She tried the button to lower the window even though she knew the water had most likely shorted out the electronics. She was right.

_Break the window._ She leaned back until her head was in Hardison's lap. It would be almost romantic if her head wasn't also half submerged in cold water. She brought her feet up to her chest and kicked against the window repeatedly as hard as she could. She kicked three times total. It had little to no effect other than to make her feet hurt.

_Assess your surroundings._ She sat up, glancing around to see what she had to work with. She didn't have any of her gear with her, and Hardison's stuff was all in the trunk, along with a tire iron probably, which would have been perfect to break the window with. This was a stolen car, she had no idea what the owner had in here.

She opened the glove compartment. Maps, insurance information, owner's manual. She shuffled the papers out of the way. A gun. She gave a little whoop of joy and pulled the revolver out of the glove compartment. It was loaded.

"We're getting out of here, Hardison."

The water started to fill the glove compartment, the papers floating on the surface of the water towards her. The car had reached the seabed at this point, although it was still tilted forward with the weight of the engine. She was a little glad that Hardison was unconscious through this, she knew that being in a car filling up with water would be torture for someone with Claustrophobia. It was unsettling even to her.

Parker knew breaking the window would make the car fill up rapidly. Hardison would be a lot lighter and easier to lift under water.

She placed the gun on the dashboard to keep it dry. With a great heave she managed to get Hardison partially out of his seat. The back of his head was leaning against her chest. She contemplated for a moment if it would be better to hold him with her bad arm and paddle with her good arm or the other way around. Either way was going to hurt.

She weaved her uninjured right arm under his arm and wrapped it around his chest, she just managed to reach her hand under his other armpit.

She reached across grabbed the gun off the dash. It felt awkward in her left hand, but she only needed to make one point-blank shot.

She raised her left arm up over her head and pointed it at the window.

"Here we go."

Parker took a deep breath in, and fired.

The loud bang from the gun was followed quickly by the sound of breaking glass, and soon they were surrounded by rushing water. Hardison became instantly lighter as the water surrounded them. Parker didn't wait, she dropped the gun, ducked underwater and began to pull them through the window.

They wouldn't both fit at the same time. Parker realized that as she smacked Hardison's head against the door. Moving quickly, she slipped out of the car first and reached through to grab his arms. She maneuvered him through the window as quickly as she could, turning him slightly when his foot caught on something, and then he was through.

She gripped him around his chest again and pushed off from the roof of the car as hard as she could. Paddling with her left arm was painful, but not unbearable. She kicked as hard as she could. Lighter though he was, Hardison still dragged on her like a dead weight.

She was afraid that he would breathe in the water since he was unconscious. She needed to get him to the surface as soon as possible. Her own lungs were burning.

They were eight feet away, she kicked harder and harder. Five feet. Three. Parker thought she felt Hardison stir, but she couldn't be sure.

Two more kicks and they were at the surface. Parker took a big gulp of air into her lungs. She then checked that Hardison's face was out of the water. She had felt him stir. His eyes were opening and he was starting to cough.

"Hey, can you hear me?" she asked. She was struggling to keep them both afloat. "Can you float on your back for me?"

He didn't seem entirely lucid.

They were pretty close to the edge of the pier but there was no way to climb up the concrete embankment. They would have to swim approximately 20 yards to reach a ladder they could climb up on. Correction, she would have to swim. Hardison seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness.

She shifted a little and began to kick, her injured arm slowly pulling them through the water. Every few strokes or so she would lose momentum and Hardison would slip under the water. She would have to kick extra hard to bring him back up and he would sputter and choke.

"You. Are. Too. Muscular." she said to him between kicks. "You suck at floating."

Seriously, a little fat on him would make this whole thing a lot easier.

Her left arm hurt. Her right arm burned from straining to hold him, and her legs were on fire.

"P-Parker . . .?" she heard him say weakly. "Where are we?"

"Where do you think? We're in the ocean, silly."

"What?"

She felt him start to struggle against her.

"Hey, it's okay, stay still," she said. "I got you."

He stopped struggling and she began to kick again.

"Although, if you could kick your legs a little, that would be a big help."

He mumbled something she didn't catch, but he started to kick a little, helping their progress.

Just when Parker thought she wouldn't be able to swim anymore, her feet touched the bottom. _Thank God, _she thought. She towed Hardison on his back the remaining ten feet. He seemed to be more lucid, she noticed with relief. He stood up when they reached the ladder.

"Are you okay?" she asked, clutching his arm when he swayed a little.

"Dizzy."

"Do you think you can get up the ladder? I want to get us out of this water."

It looked to be about eight feet up.

He nodded and started up the ladder. He stumbled on the first couple of rungs, but managed to make slow progress. Parker followed behind, climbing with one hand to give her aching left arm a rest. He disappeared over the top. Parker ascended the last couple of rungs and stepped onto the concrete.

Hardison was sprawled on his back with his limbs splayed out, soaking wet and breathing heavily. Parker collapsed on her back next to him. The last of the adrenaline had drained out of her, and with it, most of her energy. She turned her head to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"What happened?" Hardison asked next to her.

"You don't remember the car getting pushed into the water?"

"No. Did you save me?"

"Yeah, I totally did," she said proudly.

"I wish I remembered."

They weren't out of the woods yet. Parker rolled over so she was on top of him. He smiled and instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm not flirting with you, silly," she said. "I think you have a concussion."

She wiggled out of his arms and started running her hands down his legs, looking for any other obvious injuries. She moved up to his abdomen and pressed against his ribs.

"Does that hurt?"

His face cracked into a smile again.

"Tickles."

"Does your neck hurt?" she asked looking down at him.

"Just my head."

He wrapped his arms around her again.

"You're weirder than normal when you're concussed," she said.

"Kiss me."

"We are both freezing-cold and sopping-wet, it would be like kissing a fish," she said.

"But I'm a sexy fish."

Parker couldn't help but smile.

"You're bleeding," he said, frowning. His hand came up to touch her lip. His hand was freezing, and she noticed that he was severely shivering. She was shivering too.

"I just bit my tongue, I'm fine," she said. "I have to go flag down a car, since I'm assuming our cell phones no longer work."

Hardison reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone which was remarkably still working.

"This baby's waterproof."

"Perfect," she said, grabbing the phone from him. She disentangled herself from him again and stood up.

There were five missed calls from Eliot. Without hesitation Parker dialed him back.

"Hey, it's me," she said as soon as she heard Eliot pick up.

"Where the hell have you two been, Parker? We were just about to activate the GPS on his phone to come find you."

Parker filled him in on what happened, pausing occasionally to let Eliot finish cursing.

"Why did you take your earbuds out?"

"I'm sorry!" she said defensively, "We thought we were done. We were about to go grab some lunch."

Eliot grumbled something incoherent in response.

"Should I go out and flag a cab to get us to the hospital?" she asked.

"No," Eliot said. "Calvert's goons might still be in the area. Are you badly hurt?"

"Hardison has a concussion, probably," she said. "But he's awake and talking, and mostly making sense, so I don't think it's too serious."

"And you?"

"Broken arm, I think. That's all."

She thought she heard him give a sigh of relief.

"Okay," he said, businesslike, "I need you two to stay hidden and stay together. I'm on my way right now. I'll track your location and be there in fifteen minutes. Got it?"

"Got it."

"And Parker?"

"Yeah?"

"Good job getting you both out of that car."

"Thanks," she said, beaming.

She hung up and turned back to Hardison. He had sat up and had his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

"How are you doing?" she asked him and went to sit beside him.

"I think I'm going to yak."

She didn't know what to do to make him feel better, so she started rubbing his back. That's what normal people do, right?

"Well, if you wait fifteen minutes you can throw up in Eliot's car."


	2. Chapter 2

Four hours later they walked back into headquarters together after leaving the hospital. Parker leading a befuddled Hardison by the hand and thoroughly grumpy Eliot bringing up the rear.

Parker got a quick look at Nate's worried face over at the kitchen table before a mass of dark hair filled her vision and she was swept up into a hug.

"For God's sake, you two," Sophie said, releasing Parker and hugging Hardison, "That was way too close."

She turned back and peered intently into Parker's face.

"You okay?"

"I thine," Parker struggled to say.

"What?"

"I thaid I thine."

Hardison started chuckling next to her. Parker looked at Eliot for help.

"She got stitches on her tongue," he explained. "She'll talk funny until the Lidocaine wears off."

Parker opened her mouth to show Sophie. Sophie grimaced and then saw the cast on Parker's arm and made a sympathetic noise. Parker shrugged, it didn't hurt much anymore.

"And this one," Eliot nudged Hardison with his shoulder as he made his way into the room, "Won't stop laughing every time she tries to talk. The car ride home was super fun."

Parker put her hand on the small of Hardison's back and led him over to the sofa.

"But he's okay though, right?" Nate asked.

"He had his bell rung, but the doctor said he'll be fine," Eliot said. "We have to wake him up once an hour for the next twelve hours to make sure he's responsive."

Parker went over to the hall closet and smiled a little to herself. She knew that if Eliot had been the one with the concussion, he would have shrugged it off and refused to go to the hospital, but with them, he didn't take any chances. He had insisted that the doctor do a brain scan on Hardison just to be sure there was no bleeding in his brain.

She rifled through the closet. Over the past year they had all taken to leaving a change of clothing here. Here clothes were still a little bit damp and she was sure Hardison's were as well. She found the black duffel that contained her gear and pulled it out. She continued to search through the various dresses and shoes of Sophie until she found Hardison's backpack and pulled out a T-shirt and sweatpants.

"We'll take it in turns watching over him," Sophie was saying as Parker returned.

"I gan go firth," Parker said.

"No, you cannot," Eliot's voice was gruff. "The only reason I agreed to bring you here instead of taking you straight home was because you promised you would get some rest."

Parker rolled her eyes at him. Although if she was honest with herself, she was exhausted. It was only a little after four in the afternoon, but to her aching body it felt closer to midnight.

"I mean it, Parker," he said. "You can take Nate's bed."

"Oh she can, can she?" Nate said, amused but not angry.

"Okay, thine," she said. First things first, she sat Hardison down on the couch and reached down to grab the hem of his shirt.

"Armth up."

Hardison giggled, but put his arms up. Parker was having trouble getting his shirt up with only one hand so Sophie came over and helped. Normally Hardison would be mortified at being undressed by them like a child, but at the moment he seemed to find it deeply amusing.

As soon as they had his shirt off Hardison reached over and unbuttoned the button on Parker's pants. As he reached for her zipper she realized what he was doing and jumped back as if she had been shocked with something.

"Hey! No!"

Sophie snorted with laughter.

"I think you got the wrong idea about what is going to happen here, Hardison," Sophie said, trying to regain her composure.

Parker heard chortling coming from the kitchen and glared over at Eliot, who was pretending to be very absorbed in opening a beer. She felt her face flush beat red. Nate was doing his best to not laugh, holding the newspaper he was reading up high to cover the bottom half of his face.

"I can finish up here if you want to go up to bed," Sophie said.

Parker nodded. Hardison seemed to realize that he upset her, because he frowned in her direction, pouting like a little boy. She gave him a small smile, she wasn't really mad. She tried to refasten the button on her pants, struggling with one hand. She gave up and left it unbuttoned, she was going to be changing out of them in a minute anyway. She grabbed her duffel and started up the spiral staircase.

"Hold on a sec," Eliot said walking over from the kitchen. He held something out to her.

"Take these," he dropped two white pills in her hand. She eyed them suspiciously. She had already refused the offer for the Vicodin prescription from the hospital. She didn't take opiates or narcotics. She had seen firsthand how addiction can sneak up on people.

"It's Tylenol," he held out the pill bottle to show her. "Just do it. You'll thank me when that Lidocaine wears off in a couple of hours."

She sighed but popped the pills into her mouth. She then swiped his beer bottle from his hand and took a swig to wash them down, not being able to taste anything anyway while her tongue was numbed.

Eliot gave her one of the looks that she was used to at this point. The cross between annoyance and amusement. She rolled her eyes again and climbed the stairs to Nate's bedroom.

Once upstairs she peeled off her damp shirt and pants and laid them out on the windowsill to finish drying. Digging through the spare rope and harness in her bag, she pulled out a pair of black leggings and a cut-off sweatshirt.

She barely had enough energy to finish getting dressed. Once clothed, she collapsed on her stomach on top of the bed, pulling the afghan from the foot of the bed up to cover her. She was asleep in seconds, her casted arm hanging off the edge of the bed.

When Parker awoke some odd hours later she was in darkness. She was in the exact same position that she had fallen asleep in, it felt like no time at all had passed, yet night had somehow fallen.

She stretched, rolled over onto her back, and immediately wished she hadn't. Bruises and sore muscles that the adrenaline had completely masked were clamoring for attention, her neck was the worst. Her tongue felt huge and sore in her mouth, and her arm had started throbbing again.

"Ungh," she said to the empty room. She checked the clock on Nate's nightstand, 9:38. No reason to stay up here, so she made her way downstairs.

"Ah, good," Nate said, watching her descend the staircase stiffly. "I thought I was going to have to get a hotel room if I wanted to get some sleep tonight."

"Sorry," she said, she winced at the pain in her mouth. Yeah, so she will be saying as little as possible for the next couple of days.

"Parker, I was kidding, it's fine," Nate said. "Here. Eliot said I should get you to take at least two more Tylenol tonight."

He handed her the bottle of pills as she came over to stand next to him at the counter.

"But from the way you look, I would say take three."

She nodded and popped three pills into her mouth while Nate got her a glass of water to wash it down with. After she swallowed she swished another couple of mouthfuls around in her mouth, trying to get rid of the coppery taste of blood. It was persistent.

"Where's everyone?" she said. She could see Hardison's sleeping form on the couch, which had been moved to a better spot in front of the TV. But Sophie and Eliot were nowhere to be found.

"They're finishing up the job."

Her alarm must have shown on her face because Nate continued quickly.

"It's okay. It all went well. Sophie's feeding him to Banano as we speak. She'll be heading back soon."

Parker nodded, acquiescent.

"And Eliot just finished making Calvert's SUV-driving goons regret their life choices."

She smirked as she pictured in her mind Eliot inflicting pain on them in increasingly creative ways.

"Hey, though," Nate said, "You did a good job today."

She shrugged, it was unnerving to her that she had had to fight her against instincts to run away and leave Hardison to die. Even after four years, she was still a lone wolf by default, and that bothered her.

"No really," he said. "You kept your head in a situation where a lot of people wouldn't."

She gave him a smile.

"Thanks," she said. She ran her hands through her hair and stopped when her fingers got caught in the knotted mess.

"Ugh," she said, and pointed to the bathroom, "Gonna shower."

"Of course," Nate said. "You already slept in my bed, why not shower in my bathroom?"

She would have stuck her tongue out at him if it wasn't so painful. She moved into the bathroom and laughed. _His_ bathroom was clearly more Sophie's bathroom at this point. Curling irons, brushes, and hair care products filled the shelves.

She let the shower work out some of the knots in her muscles, and once she got out, she spent five minutes working out the knots in her hair with one of Sophie's brushes. She dressed in the same clothes, because she didn't have any others here, and went out to the kitchen.

Nate wasn't there, but there was a note stating that he had gone down to the bar and that she should wake up Hardison to check on him when she got out.

She went over and crouched down in front of the couch. She could see that Sophie had managed to get him into his clean t-shirt and sweatpants. She watched him sleep for a moment, his face smooth and untroubled. It was nice seeing him so peaceful.

But doctor's orders were doctor's orders. She reached over and tapped on his head lightly.

"Knock, knock," she said.

His eyes squeezed together and he grunted in pain. _Oh right, concussion, _she thought guiltily.

"What was that for?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"Sorry," she said. He opened his eyes when he heard her voice.

"Parker," he said and struggled to sit up. "How are you?"

"Good," she said and sat next to him on the couch. He seemed more like his old self, less loopy. When she crossed her legs and rested her arms on them, he caught sight of her cast and frowned.

"When did that happen?"

She gave him a look, _when do you think?_

"Right, sorry," he said. "My head is fuzzy. I keep forgetting about the car crash, probably because I slept through it."

He reached up and pushed some of her wet hair behind her ear. Her heart started to pound like it always did when he touched her.

"But you didn't sleep through it, huh? Eliot told me how you pulled me out of the car, and dragged my sorry ass back to shore. Hell, he made you sound like a superhero."

Parker smiled, she liked the sound of that. She pictured herself swinging from rooftop to rooftop from ropes the way Spiderman swung from webs.

But her smile faded. A real superhero wouldn't have hesitated before they rescued someone. A real superhero's first instinct wouldn't be to escape and leave the innocent civilian to their fate.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hardison asked, his eyes roaming over her face, "You're being really quiet."

"Hurts to talk," she said.

"Really? Let me see."

She opened her mouth to show him her stitches. He flinched and made a gagging noise.

"Damn, girl, that looks gnarly. Sorry."

She shrugged, it'll heal.

"What I was trying to say before, was thank you," he said. "You had my back, again. Just like when I was . . . buried in that coffin. And just like then, I wouldn't be here without you."

His face was getting closer to hers, and her heart was pounding so loud and fast she was sure he could hear it. And then he stopped, waiting for her to decide if she wanted to close the distance. Letting her come to him at her own pace, like he always did. Always there, but never pushing.

She took a deep breath, and brought her lips to his. The kiss was short, and sweet, with no tongue because of her injury, but when she pulled away he had a huge grin on his face, and was looking a little dazed, like when she had first pulled him out of the water.

And when she thought about it she realized she was grinning too.

Her first instinct was for self-preservation and always would be. But ignoring her instincts was much becoming much easier where Hardison was involved. The pull that she felt to be with him was almost as strong. It was what had made her stay in the car when she normally would have escaped, and what had made her stay on the phone with him when he was buried alive.

She was changing. She was no longer just a thief, she no longer belonged to herself, and little by little she was becoming comfortable with the changes.

Hardison laid back down on the couch, plastering himself against the back cushions, creating a space for her. He held out his arms.

"Come to me, my superhero," he said in an overly dramatic voice.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Weirdo," she said.

"Spoon me, woman!"

She laid down next to him, settling back so their bodies were pressed together. She gave a happy sigh. It felt right. He wrapped one arm around her and with the other began fiddling with the remote.

"Do you want to watch Dr. Who?" he said.

She swiped the remote from him to seize control.

"Nope," she said, "I want to watch a superhero movie."

-END-


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